LETTER FROM COTE D’IVOIRE

By Gabe Onwu

There are days and memories you would like to keep forever.

“ Ya place, Champion, Grand Pere, ya place, dedans, Montez, Montez,250cfs, Montez Avec
la Monnaie” Apprenti (a learner or Bus conductor ), as he and his colleagues are popularly
called, had his one leg thrown outside and his right hand stretched outside like a puppet
from Europe.He beckoned to some passengers who were stranded outside the popular
Market of Adjame in Abidjan. The chauffeur was busy trying to squeeze the last puff from a
cigarette stick when another thug approached him for ‘Cadeau’ or tip for picking passengers
at his territory. First came the storm that sent confused shoppers in all directions. Soon the
sky opened and it began to pour like it had never done before. Was God angry? The sound
of thunderstorm alone could be likened to dynamites and explosives used by ‘our friends
‘who had in recent times spread their infamous crusade to destabilise some neighbouring
countries. Women with babies strapped to their backs battled very hard to keep their
umbrellas in positions, but the storm overpowered them. Young ladies had their own
troubles trying to keep their latest hairdos from flying off their greasy heads. Others
struggled to hold some pieces of clothes that seemed to rhyme with the latest design or
fashion in vogue at least according to their own judgement but disobeyed and exposed
some sensitive parts of their body. A particular lady in her late twenties was on the ground
for two minutes. Her shoes probably got tired of her huge weight and decided to go on
strike. Three touts went to her rescue and took advantage of her situation to touch her and
utter some romantic phrases”Ma Cherie, désolé”, Tu as blessure? Koffi and I went after a
flying rickety Gbaka that had the inscription” DEIU MERCI”.A novice in French, that I would
gladly admit or I would admit my incompetence in the French language, but it became
obvious that something was not right with the inscription and so I protested silently. Come
to think of it, a moment like this no one dared question if the moving corpse would make it
to its destination. Yes, the killer engine that defiles all road signs and traffic lights.The
Chauffeur shared his bit of madness when he almost crushed a school boy whose schoolbag
was too heavy for him to carry. My excitement was cut short when I had to occupy a seat
next to a youth who from all indications had probably not visited a bathroom for the past
fifteen days.If he did, someone must have baptized him with a mixture of rotten eggs and
some used water from the abattoir.I reached out for my handkerchief to provide a
temporary relief for my nose. When he noticed how uncomfortable I was, he asked ”Ya quoi
dedans, Quelle est ton problem ?”.I lied pointing at my head to indicate ‘a headache’ and
quickly added ’Ma tete’. I chuckled and uttered few words in English’ celebrated sonofabitch
with a certificate in bacteria emission.Moi.Je Suis pas speak l’anglais.I got him and somehow
challenged his incompetence as well. His red eyes and unfriendly face almost scared the hell
out of me, but the presence of Koffi arrested the little fear in me almost immediately. Koffi’s
Kungfu and boxing skills had won him fame in our neighbourhood, turned him to a cocky
young man and a braggart.No one undermined his presence in the quartier (quarters).We
got home and I had a quick bath at least to remove some stubborn virus that might have
disrespected my body during the trip.

I made for the kitchen and began to feed directly from the pot that sat lazily on the cooker.
Did I say my prayers before meals? The stubborn hunger in me was responsible for that
laxity. All the same, I uttered some few words after the meals like a good Catholic to thank
the Man upstairs. I had had a long day, therefore, the bedroom was my next destination.

At daybreak, I had my bath and breakfast in haste. It was a special day and there was no way
the events of that day could elude me so cheaply. I joined a train of irate football fans and
supporters of Les Elephants and set out for the National Stadium some Kilometres away
from where we lived. The excitement reverberated throughout all the Regions. Streets wore
new looks adorned with National Colours. Along the route, we stopped to take some
photographs that would later remain the souvenirs of the Century. That month of April was
significant in the lives of Ivoirians and indeed Africans who love the round leather game. The
Stadium was not enough to accommodate many hundreds of thousands of spectators and
fans. Somehow my friend and I made our way into the Stadium. When the trophy finally
arrived in a Motorcade, we all went wide. The golden trophy was jealously held out to the
jubilant spectators by the President and the Captain of the national Team. A juicy lady who
stood very close to me jumped and hugged me from behind without realizing that I was a
stranger. I was glad to get those hugs after so many years of self-denial from such nutrition.
Before you blame me, we were in the celebration mood, so chapter closed. ... To be
continued.